


Le Deuxième Jeudi

by thoughtless_dreamer



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: All my feelings about the french birbs, Anal Sex, BBL spoilers, Boys lovin' boys, Crossdressing, Cuz it's sexy french, French, Honestly pretty shameless smut, Humans not birds, Humansonas, I can't believe I have to write that as a tag, If You Squint - Freeform, Is that the tag??, Kinda, Kink Meme, Language, M/M, Oral Sex, Panties, Sakuya being Sakuya, Sibling Incest, Smut, This fandom smh, Yes that's a warning, Yuuya being Yuuya, Yuuya route spoilers, fantailcest, i love that, maid outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 18:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtless_dreamer/pseuds/thoughtless_dreamer
Summary: "ButSakuya,”Yuuya needles, clutching the outfit to his chest protectively.  Sakuya makes the fatal mistake of letting the motion of eye-searing pink drag his eyes back up to his brother’s face—and yes, just as expected, there are those godforsaken puppy eyes.  "I only got to see you in it for ten minutes, at best."“That isnotmy problem,” Sakuya replies in haughty exasperation, crossing his arms and glaring up at the older boy.  "I had to don that hideous thing forhalf a day—hell has a better chance of freezing over than your hope of ever seeing me wear that blasphemous excuse for an outfit again.”_________Yuuya does what Yuuya does best.  He sweet talks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Hatoful Boyfriend belongs to Moa, not me. But I do own all the games and stuffed animals. And I love them all.
> 
> So I love Hatoful Boyfriend, like, so much. Ask anyone I know. THEY know. Anyhow, I have so many fics, finished and half started, just sitting on my computer. It's just been so long since I've posted anything, and I finally had enough of this particular kink meme fill sitting around in my files, so here it is.
> 
> **Prompt:** Yuuya persuades Sakuya back into his maid outfit. And then fucks him in it. Both human please.  bonus for frilly panties

The second Thursday of the month is a bit of an oddity within the Le Bel household. Where typically, the masters of the house are all home for the remainder of the evening by 5 PM sharp, both Mr. and Mrs. Le Bel are expected to attend a monthly fundraising event that claims their presence until anywhere from eight at night til two in the morning.

This leaves Sakuya with anywhere between three to six blissful hours all to himself, once a month.

It’s far too much of a rarity for him to pass up, and he makes damn well sure to make the most of it.

Which is why Sakuya is beside himself with fury the moment he opens the door to his quarters to see his elder brother’s dumb, smarmy mongrel face.

Well. To be fair, it’s not seeing his dumb, smarmy mongrel face that instantly makes the fires of his bottomless rage flare to life—after all, it’s the _second Thursday of the month,_ he’d be furious if Yuuya _hadn’t_ shown up.

No, no.

It’s what he holds presented triumphantly before him that pisses him the hell off, while Yuuya just stands there and grins from ear to stupid ear.

_“No,”_ Sakuya bites out, before Yuuya can so much as waggle his eyebrows and pose his obvious suggestion for their tryst of choice this evening.

Yuuya’s mouth _clicks_ shut, and for a brief, glimmering moment of hope Sakuya thinks he may very well have put the issue to rest—

But no-- _there go_ the goddamn eyebrows anyway.

" _Confound you,_ Yuuya, I said _no,_ " Sakuya hisses and slams the door shut with impressive finality. 

Or, well, tries to slam the door shut with impressive finality.

To his dismay, Yuuya is just that much faster ( _for once,_ mind you--not _as per usual_ ) and has anticipated the young noble’s reaction, shoving his foot between the closing door and its frame.

_And no,_ Sakuya doesn’t even feel the slightest bit guilty at the pained grimace that sweeps over his brother’s face as his foot takes the full brunt of Sakuya’s outrage and wounded pride.

“I don’t even want to see your face here again until you _burn_ that, that – that _wretched **thing,**_ ” Sakuya seethes, icy blue eyes flashing in outrage. Unfortunately, the bloodcurdling effect he’s hoping for is more than slightly hampered by his rapidly flushing cheeks. 

Yuuya’s lower lip starts to stick out in a dangerous pout that has Sakuya’s eyes preemptively darting away. He sadly lifts the godforsaken " _garment_ ” (if you can even _call_ it that) until it’s level with his nose, peering down at his sibling over the offensively pink material.

" _Mais Sakuya,”_ Yuuya needles, clutching the outfit tight to his chest protectively. Sakuya makes the fatal mistake of letting the flicker of motion from that eye-searing pink drag his eyes back to his brother’s face—and yes, just as expected, there are those godforsaken puppy eyes. "I only got to see you in it for ten minutes, at _best._ ” 

“That is _not_ my problem,” Sakuya replies in haughty exasperation, crossing his arms and glaring up at the older boy. "I had to don that hideous thing for _half a day_ —hell has a better chance of freezing over than your hope of ever seeing me wear that blasphemous excuse for an outfit again.” Sakuya presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, making a pained noise at the memory alone, shaking his head miserably.

“There are… _photography club_ pictures… that not even my offers of a large sum of money could convince Mister Nanaki to make them destroy. _If_ you are honestly desperate enough to sink that low,” he admits haltingly, morosely, as if it physically pains him to do so.

Yuuya considers this for all of two seconds before he readily decides it does.

" _Mais non!_ Pictures alone could not _possibly_ do you justice,” Yuuya purrs. 

It’s all he can do not to break out into a wide, knowing smile at the way Sakuya’s entire body freezes for a heartbeat.

_(hook)_

Yuuya knows _exactly_ how to play his brother, in _every_ sense of the term...and if he plays his hand right, he’ll have his way in a matter of minutes.

Who would have thought hell freezing over was as simple a matter as this?

“It’s a dreadful, tacky dress, and I want nothing more to do with it,” Sakuya replies in a voice that leaves no room for argument, planting his hands on his hips and glowering at Yuuya, his brow furrowing as his eyes sweep his brother’s face for even the slightest hint of mockery.

There is none for Sakuya to find. Yuuya just stares openly back, blue eyes wide and earnest.

“It’s quite fetching,” Yuuya disagrees lightly,"and I wish to show you just how terribly inconvenient—even _hard,_ you might say, seeing you strut about in it made my day.”

_(line)_

Sakuya’s mouth purses into a pensive, reluctant line. He thoughtfully narrows his cool, blue eyes up at Yuuya.

“You couldn’t possibly make it worth my while,” Sakuya finally challenges, and Yuuya pretends not to notice the way his eyes are already darkening with badly contained curiosity.

_(sinker?)_

“Oh, Sakuya,” Yuuya replies softly, in that low, velvet voice he reserves just for his gorgeous little brother—sure enough, a shiver of cleverly piqued interest runs straight through the boy’s lithe frame. 

Yuuya lets the tip of his tongue peek out to moisten his suddenly dry lips, the corners of his mouth quirking when Sakuya unconsciously mirrors the action. "I beg to differ, _mon cher,_ ” he continues."In fact, I can and I _must_ —nothing would bring me greater pleasure than proving you wrong on that front.”

Yuuya watches the indecision war on Sakuya’s face with baited breath, keeping his face schooled into its lofty and confident smile even as he extends the dress-lain arm towards his brother expectantly.

A myriad of emotions flitter over the Le Bel heir’s face in the span of a couple heartbeats. But ultimately he folds in the face of Yuuya’s poker face, and snatches the blasted thing out of Yuuya’s grasp, spinning on his heel and flouncing away with as much dignity as he can muster.

“You’d better make this the indisputably best night of my life, so help me,” Sakuya warns, and manages to take some pride in the way his voice does not shake or crack in the slightest. He only trips over his feet a _little_ at the sound of Yuuya’s voice calling " _mais bien sûr, mon petit ange_ ” after him. 

He throws an exasperated glower over his shoulder for good measure but as soon as he rounds the corner to his chambers, he scurries away as fast as he can. He rushes into his dressing room and quickly shuts the door to lean back against it, cheeks aflame and the back of his hand pressed to his mouth in horror.

Good lord, is he really going to _do this?_ To break his solemn word and _lower himself_ again like this? And in front of his mongrel brother—for his mongrel brother—of his own volition, no less!

Sakuya stands there, glaring hatefully down at the miserable pink thing for another few heartbeats before he lets out a resigned sigh and starts reluctantly changing. It’s easier to put on a second time, he begrudgingly admits, with all those tips and directions under his belt from Ryouta explaining it to him the first time.

He slowly and methodically goes through the motions of pulling the whole thing on – loosening the corset just enough to shimmy it up over his chest before threading it tight once more until it stays up even without the swell of breasts to keep it in place; carefully fluffing the petticoat until the entire underskirt is even all the way ’round; and then, finally, smoothing down the wrinkles of the skirt and apron until everything lies perfectly smooth against the puffy petticoat. But even then, the skirt falls short above his knees an unacceptably _indecent_ five inches.

_Somehow,_ for some godforsaken reason beyond even him, he even remembers that…well, at the time it’d seemed useless…“trick” Ryouta had taught him; how to tie the perfect bow behind his own back. 

All finished, he tries not to let his eyes linger too long on his reflection as he pauses, forcing his eyes away as his fingers fall just short of the door handle.

But his resolve cracks and he hesitates, his hand falling back to his his side. He bites the inside of his cheek as he considers the image staring back.

He looks. Absolutely. _Ridiculous._

What’s worse, Sakuya _distinctly_ remembers the length being _far_ more modest (its use was, after all, initially intended for a school event) and he is entirely certain at this point that his brother has added his own, personal touches.

Yuuya must be out of his goddamed mind to want to see him in this stupid dress so badly. He must have caught a worse glimpse than he recalls the day of that _blasted_ maid café, because there is nothing—absolutely _nothing_ he can find appealing about him in this…this miserable excuse for a dress.

The bodice is designed for a more feminine frame, and is far too snug for his build. He tries in vain to tug the hem of the skirt lower, and instantly remembers that he cursed whoever designed the despicable, poufy sleeves that hamper his movement by at least a _third_ of his normal range.

_Worst_ of all, when he’d first unfolded the dress from where it had been carefully laid over Yuuya’s arm, a pair of new, perfectly matching lacy pink thigh highs and – oh, for the love of – that _stupid ruffled headband_ had tumbled out from their clever hiding place beneath the apron. Sakuya had begrudgingly pulled them on, but now, as he slowly spins to examine himself critically from every angle, the complete ensemble look entirely _absurd_ on him.

Sakuya can’t help but groan in dismay, fiddling anxiously with the ribbon of the headband as he considers how the hell he’s going to talk his way out of this one.

Well, why _should_ he give that idiot what he wants, anyway? he wonders angrily, tearing his eyes away from his bright red face and crossing his arms tightly as he glares down at his toes. He wriggles them angrily in the confines of his stupid socks.

“Sakuya?” Yuuya lilts from _right outside,_ and Sakuya grimaces, nails digging into the soft flesh of the inside of his elbows.

“This is preposterous,” Sakuya does _not_ whine, and he only stamps his foot a little. "This is even _worse_ than I remember.”

There’s a telling pause.

“I may have had a hand in a number of changes,” Yuuya admits. “But I can assure you, they’re all undoubtedly flattering on you, _mon frère._ ” 

Yuuya waits patiently where he’s lounging comfortably on Sakuya’s plush ottoman, allowing Sakuya his due time to mull over his unabashedly deliberate attempts at flattery.

In all honesty, he hadn’t been sure whether or not Sakuya would drop kick him from the start for this particular suggestion, let alone known if he’d even give the idea the time of day. He’d been mentally prepared for the very real possibility that he’d have to head straight back to his apartment upon facing Sakuya’s wrath.

Yuuya had actually snuck this dress out _months_ ago with the fervent desire that, when he finally dared to remind Sakuya of the hated thing’s existence, the night would ultimately play out in his favor.

Because, for the life of him, he hadn’t been able to banish the thought of fucking every last inch of perfect propriety out of Sakuya from his _damn mind._

Truth be told, his homeroom’s butler café had been even busier than 2-3’s maid café, and he’d barely managed to sneak out for the brief break he _did_ to catch a glimpse of his younger brother for the last few minutes of his shift, in all his unapologetically _tsundere_ glory.

Sure, he’d poked fun at Sakuya for Hiyoko-chan’s benefit, as he felt he was duly obligated to as Sakuya’s big brother; and while Sakuya’s reaction had _absolutely_ been worth the threat of bodily harm that came with the slew of café menus he’d been chased him out of the room with…

Well. All he’d _really_ wanted to do was to pull Sakuya off to the nearest empty classroom and fuck that cute little scowl off his face.

Just thinking about it still makes Yuuya’s mouth go dry. _Three months later._

The click of the lock and a promising creak of the dressing room door snaps Yuuya out of his reverie and his head jerks straight up from where he’s been staring blankly down at the elaborate patterns of the Persian carpet beneath his toes. 

He watches the doorknob intently, sitting perfectly still, not daring to so much as breathe and waits.

And waits.

And finally lets the air rush out in a breathless chuckle when the door doesn’t budge any further.

“Sakuya,” he coaxes sweetly, _"Allons-y!_ I’m sure you look just as ravishing as last time.”

“You _laughed_ last time,” Sakuya reminds him sullenly, voice muffled from behind the door. Yuuya lets his head fall back in exasperation, casting his eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer for just a _little_ more patience.

“Sakuya, if I hadn’t been laughing at you, I would have been _jumping_ at you,” Yuuya tells him honestly. "I’m rather certain that would not have been nearly as well received by Mister Nanaki _or_ our peers.” He frowns and taps his chin thoughtfully. "Well, Hiyoko-chan remains to be seen—she does seem oddly enraptured whenever she sees the two of us together, but—”

His voice dies abruptly as the door swings open the rest of the way and Yuuya’s thoughts skid to a stupefied halt.

Oddly enough, the first coherent thought that passes through his head is that if this were a mission, and he'd been sweet talking his way out of danger, he might as well be dead.

He wouldn’t have been able to remember the rest of his sentence, let alone his _cover story_ even if his or Leone’s life was on the line—because there’s Sakuya at long last, and if Yuuya’s mouth drops open a little he doesn’t even care because _Mon Dieu, **Sakuya**_ looks—

Sakuya looks absolutely _decadent._

The young aristocrat's usual bravado is gone, replaced with a charming, flustered air of uncertainty. He closes the door quietly behind him and presses back against it. Yuuya can only catch the slimmest glimpse of blue through silvery lashes as his eyes stay fixed on the ground, refusing to meet Yuuya’s.

That takes Yuuya a good minute to notice, however, because he’s too busy drinking in the image of his little brother all dolled up.

Sakuya always showers before Yuuya arrives, but the way his hair is still curling as it dries comes across as unusually sweet with the ruffled hairband to bring out the delicate, silvery wisps against his pink cheeks. 

Yuuya’s transfixed eyes follow the pink, curving loop of the ribbon hanging down from the side, until his gaze is drawn to the high, lace collar tight around his pale, slender neck. 

He counts one, two, three orange heart-shaped buttons down the straining fabric across Sakuya’s chest, until the oversized frills of the sweet, white apron interrupt the cheery pink satin of the dress. The pink poufy sleeves are charming beyond belief, but then Yuuya’s eyes snap to the unexpected splash white of perfectly fitted silk gloves Sakuya is sporting, _because those had **not** been included_ in the package.

His eyebrows jump to his hairline in surprise; his mind whirling with questions of what _other_ surprises Sakuya might have up his sleeve in an attempt to throw him for a loop.

He really shouldn’t be surprised—he should know by now, that Sakuya _always_ rises to a challenge, no matter what it may be. It’s only one of the million little things Yuuya loves about his brother, and always serves to make their trysts _that_ much more interesting.

Yuuya forces his brain back on task from the tempting flicker of _delightful_ memories to here, _now,_ and it’s all too easy to let his eyes get drawn to the cute little curve of Sakuya’s waist, emphasized by the immaculate pink sash, tied expertly back into a perfect, big bow at the back (no doubt a lesson, courtesy of the lovely Coolene). 

His mouth waters a little at the thought of smoothing his hands down those smooth sides and hiking Sakuya up against the nearest wall--to grip him so tightly he leaves an incriminating set of bruises blooming beneath the sweet layers of taffeta and satin.

The pale, pink bows sewn to the top of his knee-highs nearly serve to be the breaking point for Yuuya, and he bites the inside of his cheek _hard_ as he does his best to ignore the painful strain against the seam of his pants as he fights for composure, unwilling to move until he has taken complete and total inventory of his hard-won presentation.

But then his eyes drop down to Sakuya’s toes, wriggling anxiously in his taut, pink lacey socks, and the last coherent thought he has is the abrupt realization that there are _little hearts_ embroidered into the fabric he hadn’t noticed before.

Yuuya’s on his knees with his fingers curled loosely around one of his little brother’s thin ankles before he even realizes he’s moved from his seat, and he lifts his leg to press a helpless kiss to the top of his foot.

Sakuya gives this small, choked gasp of surprise and Yuuya makes the mistake of looking up, peering at Sakuya through his silvery lashes, lips still pressed to Sakuya’s pink, silken foot.

The heir has his knuckles pressed to his teeth, his fist trembling where it’s curled against his mouth. His usually shockingly ice blue eyes are hardly more than a thin ring of blue around blown pupils. His other hand curls tight into the folds of his skirt, a handful of pink fabric bunched tight in his long, pianist’s fingers.

“Oh, _Sakuya,_ " Yuuya says, and while both of them are briefly taken aback at how hoarse he sounds, he soldiers on. "Sakuya, _mon joli petit frère_ , there aren’t words to describe what you do to me.”

Sakuya swallows hard and blinks down rapidly before he clears his throat and tries to speak – tries, because his lips move, but no sound comes out at first. 

It takes Sakuya squeezing his eyes shut and taking a slow, ragged breath for him to compose himself enough to speak. "Then save your pretty words, and _show_ me,” he says in what Yuuya assumes is meant to be his usual, bossy tone but comes out just as strained and breathless as Yuuya’s.

Yuuya’s head falls forward so he can lean it against Sakuya’s knee, and he closes his eyes and prays to whatever god might be listening to lend him the strength not to throw his brother down right this fucking minute and be done with it.

Not when he’s waited so long for this, not when he wasn’t sure he’d ever get this chance again. _Not_ when he finally has it--has _Sakuya_ all prettied up for him, right here and now.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his teeth before he gathers himself to his feet to crowd Sakuya back against the door, hands settling on Sakuya’s waist as he rests his forehead against his brother’s. 

His bright blue eyes flit across Sakuya’s flushed face, lips curving a little as he relishes the cute scowl he’s sporting; but then Sakuya’s small tongue darts out to wet his lips and he’s leaning in to kiss him fiercely before he can help himself.

It’s a good thing he has a grip on Sakuya because the aristocrat instantly melts in his arms, his hands flying to grasp tightly at his shoulders for support as his knees threaten to buckle when he tries to match Yuuya’s fervor. He gives a sweet little moan that Yuuya greedily swallows when he catches Sakuya’s lower lip between his teeth, fingers scrabbling at the nape of Yuuya’s neck, his blunt nails digging into his skin pleasantly.

Yuuya sighs heavily into Sakuya’s sweet mouth, his thumb tracing lazy circles on Sakuya’s hips as he tightens his grasp, unconsciously steadying the younger boy when he takes what he thinks must be an equally unconscious, unsteady step closer.

His pale lashes flutter when Sakuya, who's quickly gaining confidence, arches brazenly forward. He pushes himself up on his tiptoes as he tangles his fingers into Yuuya’s long hair—giving a soft but demanding tug as he tries to take control of the kiss, pressing flush against his older brother.

Sakuya acts like such a spoiled brat the rest of the time that Yuuya admits he was completely blindsided when his brother proved himself to be the opposite of the selfish lover he was expecting. Never once has Sakuya deigned to sit back and let his brother do all the work, always a delightfully active participant.

And as a diligent big brother, it’s _totally_ his birthright to encourage the best traits in his younger brother.

So Yuuya sighs pleasantly and bends down a little more and parts his lips, giving Sakuya the lead. He shudders as Sakuya runs his tongue playfully over his teeth before sliding it lazily against his own, a low sound of pleasure rumbling deep in his throat.

Yuuya is _so glad_ he took such pains to teach Sakuya to kiss so expertly; then again, he had an excellent student, more than willing to learn and eager to take the time to practice in empty classrooms throughout the day. 

Everyday.

_Several_ days a week. 

_"Tu me rends fou,_ ” Yuuya breathes against Sakuya’s lips when they part for air with a wet sound, his heady gaze meeting his brother’s equally hazy one.

“And I thought _I_ told _you_ to stop talking,” Sakuya lilts back, blue eyes glinting playfully as he tips his head back to smirk smugly up at the upperclassman. That earns a low chuckle from his Yuuya, who manages to raise his hands in mock surrender for all of five seconds before he has to have them back on his brother.

Because it hits him that Sakuya’s back to speaking in full sentences, and that is entirely unacceptable. Yuuya promptly dedicates himself to rendering Sakuya incapable of proper speech, as promised and as intended.

His hands travel south from where they’ve been all but fastened to Sakuya’s waist, smoothing over the tempting, silky folds of his poufy skirt and dipping lower and lower until his fingernails catch on the lace of that cute frilly petticoat. 

The brief, tempting flashes of white lace had commanded his undivided attention whenever Hiyoko had deliberately dropped her flyers and chopsticks whenever she passed Sakuya, making him rant and curse as he struggled to bend over in his heels to pick them up.

Yuuya peppers kisses from the corner of Sakuya’s mouth down to the delicate curve of his jaw, rolling his eyes at Sakuya's unconscious, customary mumble of "if you leave _any_ hickeys, _so help me…_ ” 

He ignores the empty threat as usual, nipping lightly at Sakuya's collarbone just to mess with him as he pinches a trim of taffeta between his fingertips to tug gently, smiling against the palm column of Sakuya’s throat when he feels him shiver and shift his weight, canting his hips up expectantly.

Oh so slowly, Yuuya slides his hands beneath the fluffy layers of the skirt and petticoat, delicately maneuvering each layer of fabric he encounters out of his way until Sakuya’s nearly _vibrating_ with badly hidden impatience. He can’t help but stifle a laugh against Sakuya’s skin, charmed at his antics.

_"Patience, mon coeur,”_ he coaxes soothingly when he hears Sakuya take an affronted breath, most likely to snap angrily at him for laughing at him (he can’t help it, he’s just so _cute_ ). "It isn’t every day I get the chance to relish you in such tantalizing attire—to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance again.” 

Slowly, Sakuya’s shoulders relax, evidentially placated by Yuuya’s shameless, overt flattery; and not for the first time, Yuuya finds himself oddly thankful for the ease of appealing to Sakuya’s vanity.

Yuuya’s fingertips finally, _finally_ graze the smooth flesh of Sakuya’s thighs, and he lets out a shivering breath the same moment he feels Sakuya’s entire body go tauter than a violin string. Grinning, he moves his lips to brush against his brother’s ear.

“Let me take my time with you. Remember, I promised I’d make this evening worth your while,” he murmurs, more breath than words, and gently ghosts his fingertips up along the insides of his thighs.

_That’s_ when he feels the lace.

_**That’s**_ when Yuuya’s brain short circuits for an unprecedented second time in one evening.

Yuuya remains entirely frozen but for the way he slowly draws his head back to grace the prim aristocrat with a look of genuinely baffled shock. Sakuya, on the other hand, somehow manages to pull off an odd mix of looking torn between trying to cover his face in absolute mortification and gleefully preening at managing to surprise his unflappable elder brother.

_“Sakuya,”_ Yuuya says, and if it sounds like his voice has been dragged across a bed of nails, well, he can’t be bothered to care, because his brother is a _sneaky little shit._ "Sakuya, you’d better tell me right now, or I fear I may not be able to be held responsible for my actions.”

Sakuya just blinks mildly at him, tilts his head jauntily and crosses his arms expectantly in a silent command to _"go on.”_

Yuuya opens his mouth, closes it, pauses--and tries again.

“Are you wearing those panties I bought you for April Fools day this year?” Yuuya finally manages to ask, only sounding _slightly_ strangled.

Sakuya doesn’t respond so much with words as he does with actions. His face promptly goes bright red at the reminder of just _where_ they’d come from, and his mouth twitches awkwardly a few times before he ultimately settles for grabbing Yuuya’s wrist, where it was frozen to the hollow of his thigh, and boldly presses the larger palm over his straining erection beneath the many folds of his skirt.

And as if _that_ isn’t already enough to make Yuuya bite back a helpless groan of pure want, the feeling of damp lace is more than enough to drag a slew of choice, French filth out of him—which he promptly smothers against Sakuya’s mouth as he crashes their mouths together in a kiss just this side of painful, making Sakuya whine sharply as their teeth clack loudly.

_"J’ai envie de toi,"_ Yuuya pleads hoarsely when Sakuya jerks away with a shallow gasp, arching sharply forward as Yuuya kneads the heel of his palm against his cock. He admires the way his little brother’s silvery lashes fan across his pink cheeks at his words and ministrations. _"Je te veux, Sakuya, maintenant, s’il te plait.”_

Sakuya makes a desperate keening noise and clutches at Yuuya’s shirt, shuddering as he cants his hips forward to grind into Yuuya’s palm."Y-Yuuya, _s’il te plait,"_ he breathes, closer to begging than Yuuya’s ever heard; and Yuuya doesn’t think he can possibly _get_ any harder but then he hears the next words that fall from his brother’s lips.

_"Baises-moi,_ Yuuya – Yuuya, _s’il te plait, s’il te plait,”_ Sakuya whimpers through kiss-swollen lips, and the unexpected expletive makes Yuuya’s breath hitch and his cock strain painfully enough against his zip that he finally fumbles to pop the button open with his free hand, unwilling to stop stroking Sakuya through the silky lace panties with the other.

Sakuya must still have enough wits about him to hazily notice what’s going on, because he seems absolutely on board with divesting Yuuya of his clothing. He curses under his breath when his trembling, silk covered fingers keep slipping on the buttons of the older boy’s shirt. Yuuya notices the young heir’s struggle, and the moment his pants are unzipped, he easily catches his brother’s slender wrists in one larger hand. He tugs them up to his face, teeth catching on the fabric of one of Sakuya’s middle fingertips, dragging his glove straight off with his teeth.

Yuuya’s eye is caught by the _Look_ on Sakuya’s face, not to mention the way the cock against his palm jerks in interest—and while he impatiently tugged the first glove straight off to let it drop from his teeth, he pointedly takes care to hold Sakuya’s gaze as he works the second one off far, _far_ more slowly. 

One by one, he lightly closes his teeth just below the second knuckle of each finger, letting the tip of his tongue drag against the underside of his fingers, teeth grazing delicately along each extended digit—until Sakuya’s mouth falls open, he’s panting so hard.

The minute the second glove drops to the floor, Yuuya starts nibbling and sucking along Sakuya’s fingers mercilessly—trailing his tongue along each digit to tease the webbing between his spread fingers, until Sakuya’s eyes are fluttering rapidly and he’s biting his lip so hard Yuuya fears he may draw blood. He reaches to cup Sakuya’s face and presses his thumb against Sakuya’s lower lip, gently easing it from its prison between his teeth, and leaning in to kiss the plump, abused flesh tenderly.

Something about that oddly gentle, innocent kiss in the midst of all this proves to be Sakuya's undoing, because he’s suddenly scrambling to get Yuuya’s shirt off again, newly bare fingers fumbling Yuuya’s shirt buttons open with far more success than before. He triumphantly pushes the sides of his dress shirt apart to fan his fingers possessively over Yuuya’s toned chest before his hands impatiently take an abrupt beeline south.

_"Merde,”_ Yuuya swears, hips jerking forward as Sakuya grasps his hip with one hand while his other slips down the front of his boxers, wrapping dexterous fingers around his neglected erection. Yuuya has to throw one hand out to press back against the wall for support, struggling to remain standing and willing himself not to just rut into Sakuya’s hand until he cums. It only takes a few, talented twists of Sakuya’s hand to bring Yuuya teetering dangerously close to the edge, and he reluctantly steps back.

“Sakuya, _arête—arête-toi,”_ he groans when Sakuya stubbornly follows him, forcing him to grabbing Sakuya’s wrists and silence his whine of protest with a firm, chaste kiss.

“You’re far too clever with your hands for your own good,” he admits readily when he breaks away, "and I’m worried I won’t be able to last nearly as long as I want to if I let you keep that up.”

Then he winks, offers his placated brother a cocky grin and hikes Sakuya’s skirt up to grab him around his thighs, hoisting him up and hooking his legs around his waist, grabbing his ass for leverage. Sakuya immediately starts flailing about—despite the countless times Yuuya has proved he can carry him, he remains convinced, every time, that this will be the time his strength fails him. 

So Yuuya pulls out the oldest, most reliable trick in the book and tips his head up to lure him into a kiss when Sakuya looks like he’s about to protest—all too happy to make it his mission to kiss away his anxiety for the few strides it takes him to reach Sakuya’s extravagantly oversized bed.

He sets the smaller teen down on his perfectly made bed, taking great pleasure in spreading wrinkles across the entire bedspread as he kisses Sakuya back into the mattress.

Sakuya makes a plaintive sound in his throat and tries to sit up; Yuuya knows _exactly_ what he wants, but Sakuya makes it far too easy to mess with him so Yuuya pretends he isn't having it, kissing him deeper and deeper with each of Sakuya's further attempts at protest—until his frustrated brother finally gives his lower lip a sharp bite.

Well, he hadn’t expected that, Yuuya admits, somewhat miffed as he runs his tongue over his sore lip. Sakuya rolls his eyes at the way his brother _suddenly_ musters the resolve to restrain himself long enough to give him the chance to sit up and retrieve the lube he keeps stashed away in the back of his nightstand.

It doesn't stay in his hand long, though, because Yuuya immediately plucks it out of his grasp to drop pointedly beside them, letting it catch somewhere in the newly form folds of the bedclothes as he pins him right back down to smother every inch of Sakuya he can reach in fluttering kisses.

“You look good enough to eat,” Yuuya informs him mildly from where he’s nuzzling Sakuya’s belly, rubbing his cheek against Sakuya’s erection through the thick layers of skirt and petticoat. 

While he’s not initially sure whether it’s his words or actions that makes color jump to Sakuya’s cheeks – honestly, it’s probably both – the hopeful, hungry look he sends Yuuya through thick, silvery lashes tells him everything he needs to know.

So Yuuya flashes his brother a grin before he buries his head beneath his skirts, grips his brother’s thighs and flattens his tongue to drag up from the base to the tip of Sakuya’s cock over his already hopelessly soaked lingerie in one slow, languid stroke.

Sakuya’s hands slam down flat against the mattress, his back arching sharply as he throws his head back in a silent scream. Yuuya keeps his grip on Sakuya’s thighs firm, more than familiar with Sakuya’s helpless thrashing. He carefully, almost lovingly tugs the ruined lace panties down Sakuya’s thighs with his teeth, lazily licking up the wet streaks of precum left behind until Sakuya’s practically sobbing his name in frustration.

Only then, when Sakuya’s a shuddering, whimpering mess, rambling in a desperate muddle of French and Japanese and bits and pieces of no less than the four other languages he’s tutored in— _only then_ does Yuuya take pity on him, and press a kiss to Sakuya’s weeping, swollen cock and take him firmly into his mouth in one smooth, swift motion.

Sakuya’s back arches straight off the bed and one hand flies up to slap over his mouth while the other scrambles from the bed sheets to grip the back of Yuuya’s head. His fingers tangle and practically tear at Yuuya’s hair, making him breathe sharply through his nose in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Yuuya,” Sakuya mewls, and _oh **fuck**_ he sounds _so far gone,_ his little brother’s voice _breaking_ like that _does_ things to Yuuya. He groans, overwhelmed, and grinds against the mattress, seeking a _hint_ of relief. He’s on the brink himself, and has to pull away to catch his breath and compose himself, breathing heavily as he plants a firm kiss to the hollow of one damp thigh, lazily leaving a stark, crude trail of lovebites along his pale skin as he tries to settle down.

Sakuya makes an odd, hitching noise that’s more pain than pleasure when he shifts his attention to give his other thigh and belly and basically everywhere else that’s not Sakuya’s aching cock the same treatment--and instantly Yuuya draws back to peer up at Sakuya over his foggy, askew glasses, wiping his mouth and chin dry with the back of his hand.

“Sakuya, _qu’est-ce qui ne vas pas?_ What’s wrong?” he asks, concern pricked when he sees Sakuya’s arm flung over his face, hiding his eyes. Immediately he wriggles his way up until his face is level with his little brother’s, nudging at Sakuya’s elbow until he reluctantly lets him tug his arm away to pin gently over his head—and Yuuya softens immediately.

“ Oh, Sakuya, _je suis desole,_ ” he murmurs apologetically as he kisses away the overwhelmed tears welling in his eyes. Because Sakuya’s face is hot and flushed and his face is already damp with frustrated tears and his chest is heaving raggedly and Yuuya feels _absolutely terrible._ Because Sakuya’s been so patient and been so good, and he hadn’t realized he’d pushed him so far.

“Let me take care of you, _mon petit chou,_ I won’t tease you any longer,” Yuuya promises, rubbing his cheeks against Sakuya’s and peppering kisses all over his face until Sakuya’s breathing slows down to something approaching normal and the strain is gone from his face, replaced with an almost sheepish, embarrassed expression.

“Yuuya, I’m _fine,_ ” Sakuya protests halfheartedly, scrubbing at his puffy eyes with the heel of one hand, and Yuuya _tsks_ at him, pulling his hand away to kiss his fingers softly.

“Sakuya, please. Don’t ever stay quiet if it’s too much,” Yuuya chides earnestly and continues right over Sakuya’s affronted, kneejerk response. "I don’t ever want to give you more than you can take, and only _you_ can tell me how much that is, Sakuya. _D’accord?_ ” 

Sakuya scowls, and Yuuya arches an eyebrow, all too happy to engage him in his silent standoff in the name of teaching Sakuya the importance of hard limits; but then the angry line of Sakuya’s mouth twitches and fades as he bites his lip, squirming beneath Yuuya and _immediately_ reminding him of their present position.

“Fine,” Sakuya grumbles, before giving Yuuya a pleading look."Now can we _please_ keep going before I accidentally finish by myself?”

Which sends Yuuya into a choked fit of laughter so hard he has to drop his head to rest against Sakuya’s shoulder, stifling his uncontrollable giggles at Sakuya saying something _so blunt_ and _so purely Sakuya._ He pretends not to feel the reluctant smile that spreads across his brother's lips as he leans in for a fond, chaste kiss.

_"Bien sûr,”_ Yuuya agrees amicably before he composes himself, patting around the bed until his fingers clasp around the bottle of slick. He wriggles his way back down between Sakuya’s legs to hook them over his shoulders before he promptly takes Sakuya deep into his throat in one smooth, practiced motion. He smirks when he hears Sakuya swear loudly and feels trembling fingers curl tight into his hair.

Yuuya breathes steadily, easily through his nose as he immediately starts working his mouth around Sakuya, hollowing his cheeks around his cock and bobbing his head lazily up and down and generally pulling out all the stops he knows to drive Sakuya over the edge. He busies his hands opening the bottle and pouring a generous amount to warm, pooled in the palm of one hand.

He hikes Sakuya’s skirts higher with his free hand, shuffling them out of any immediate harm’s way; he is under no illusions that this cute dress is going to survive the night, but he still intends to make the _most_ of it. 

He slicks up his fingers and settles his free arm across Sakuya’s hips, holding him down when he flinches in surprise at the feeling of damp fingertips gently tracing between the cleft of his ass. He presses one fingertip against him in warning, letting it rest there until Sakuya presses his hips down towards him with a slightly impatient huff.

Yuuya deigns to reward his patience and does that trick with his tongue that makes Sakuya melt into a boneless puddle every time. He readily takes the opportunity presented to carefully press his middle finger into him up to the second knuckle—licking roughly around him when he jerks and working his finger in the rest of the way with relative ease.

Sakuya squirms at the intrusion and makes a strained little noise at the stretch, and Yuuya gives a muffled groan himself at the feel of Sakuya’s muscles fluttering as he gives a full bodied shudder.

Yuuya lets Sakuya slide from his mouth but before Sakuya can whine in complaint, Yuuya drops his head to lick around his fingers, making Sakuya’s hips arch helplessly off the bed as he gives a desperate, stilted shout—his eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of pleasure. Yuuya takes that chance to slide his pointer finger alongside the first up to the second knuckle, and then before Sakuya has a chance to respond, scissors his two fingers apart to work in the tip of his third finger.

Yuuya’s heart clenches a little when the stretch draws a startled whimper from Sakuya. He shushes him softly, murmuring softly to him in French as he showers his belly with kisses, grimacing when Sakuya tries and fails to swallow a sob when he eases his fingers out before pressing all three fingers in the rest of the way, burying them as deep as he can.

He raises his head to watch Sakuya’s face carefully, watching the flux of emotions shift over the aristocrat’s face, gently flexing his fingers and waiting patiently for any indication of something other than discomfort.

Yuuya waits until he’s able to gently pump his fingers in and out in a slow, careful rhythm without dragging a strained noise or wince from Sakuya before he expertly curls his fingers and drags his fingertips over his prostate.

Sakuya goes rigid for all of three seconds before he melts back against the mattress in boneless pleasure, a ragged half moan, half sigh ripping from his throat; and then again, louder as Yuuya repeats the motion again, and _again_ and _again_ —until he’s a writhing, breathless, babbling mess beneath Yuuya’s touch. 

Then all of the sudden, he jerks away _hard,_ pushing weakly but intently at Yuuya’s shoulders.

“Yuuya, Yuuya Yuuya _**Yuu** ya,_ stop _stop **stop** ,_" Sakuya gasps abruptly, smacking desperately at Yuuya’s hands, who immediately draws away in alarm, confusion sweeping over his features when Sakuya throws his arms over his face with a frustrated growl, letting out a desperate, keening noise at the loss of his touch.

Yuuya stares down at Sakuya, frozen and wide-eyed with concern until Sakuya lets a slow, strained breath hiss out between his teeth, gradually starting to relax. 

Eventually, he peeks one blue eye out from under the arms flung over his face to regard Yuuya apologetically.

“You were going to make me cum,” he says in the most dignified, accusatory tone he can muster. Yuuya’s shoulders sink in a mixture of exasperation and relief, and he shakes his head at the younger heir in disbelief.

_"Tu es impossible,”_ he tells him seriously, to which Sakuya cleverly quips, _"Impossible, n’est pas francais”_ in reply, fixing his brother with a sudden, cheeky grin that’s so purely _Yuuya,_ he's briefly taken aback at how disconcerting it is to feel like he’s looking straight into a mirror.

Yuuya kisses the rare grin right off the younger boy’s face, unable to stop himself from tasting his smile as he reaches down to fumbles impatiently with his pants. He shoves them down along with his boxers just far enough to let his own leaking, aching erection spring free before leaning down to nip affectionately at Sakuya’s throat.

“How do you want it?” he murmurs as he shrugs his shirt off the rest of the way to carelessly toss somewhere on the floor. He then turns his attention to tenderly arranging the folds of Sakuya’s skirt and petticoat higher, so he can nudge his pale, slender legs apart to make room to settle between them.

He can practically _feel_ the heat of blood rushing to Sakuya’s cheeks at his question; for whatever reason, this question never fails to reduce Sakuya to a blushing, stuttering mess—so Yuuya mouths lazily at the shell of his ear as he waits patiently for Sakuya’s response.

_“Prends-moi sur le dos,”_ Sakuya blurts out eventually, staring pointedly past Yuuya’s shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. Yuuya blinks and Sakuya squirms--presumably at his lashes tickling his neck, but then Yuuya realizes he's _embarrassed_ when he pulls back just enough to stare at Sakuya, and earns a glare for the pleased smile spreading over his lips.

_“Vraiment?"_ he double checks with delighted surprise he doesn’t even bother to try and hide--it’s rare that Sakuya deigns to face him, rarer still when he suggests it without gratuitous pleading on Yuuya’s part. 

Sakuya makes a face and turns his head until he’s pressing a hot cheek against the cool of the bedspread, scowling towards the head of the bed.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Sakuya warns, but he’s struggling to sound more angry than planitive.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Yuuya assures him, smiling sultrily. 

Then he smirks, and casually adds "it’s not every month that you give me the honor of seeing that cute face you make when you cum.”

Sakuya’s face explodes with color and he whips his head back to fix Yuuya with a mortified glare before promptly squirming to try and turn onto his stomach in an indignant display of outrage—Yuuya scrambles to placate him with kisses between helpless peals of laughter and apologies.

Kisses that quickly move from apologetic, to playful; from sweet, to heated—until they’re panting shallowly against each others mouths, sharing hot air between them as Yuuya hikes Sakuya’s legs up around his waist to shift closer and closer, until the blunt head of his cock is rubbing slickly against Sakuya’s tight hole.

He hesitates, to Sakuya’s utter dismay, glancing over the frame of his glasses to make sure he’s ready. This time Sakuya is finally impatient enough to readily makes his displeasure known—pulling back to look Yuuya in the eye to shamelessly rasp, "Yuuya—for the _love of God,_ would you _**please** fuck me, peut-être ce soir?”_

Which, of course, brings Yuuya’s higher, cognitive function to a screeching halt, and the next thing he knows, he’s already pushed himself halfway into the pliant body beneath him. 

He finds himself staring down with wide, blown eyes at Sakuya’s face and drinking in every minute shift in expression; the way his head tilts back, exposing his long, gorgeous throat, straining and bobbing as he swallows hard. How his reddened, kiss-bitten lips are parted in a soundless cry. The oddly erotic way his usually pale lashes are dark and damp, sticking to his pink cheeks as they flutter tightly shut against the initial rush of mixed pain and pleasure.

Yuuya doesn’t stop moving until he’s buried all the way inside Sakuya, knows he prefers it that way. Then and only then, does he stop the slow, methodical backwards recitation of the Morse alphabet in his head and let out the strained breath he’s been holding, forcing himself to breathe evenly, ragged as his breaths may be.

Sakuya’s trembling beneath him, lips pursed into a tight, white line and clearly doing everything within his power not to let the tears springing to his eyes fall. He sniffles bravely and shifts carefully beneath his elder brother, choking back a pained sound.

Yuuya bites his lip hard, blinking sweat from his eyes and feeling his glasses begin a slow but steady slide down the bridge of his nose, silently cursing himself for not having the foresight to take them off.

That’s when a pair of trembling hands gently removes them to set them clumsily aside.

Yuuya blinks slowly, hazy eyes focusing on the glassy, lighter shade of blue staring straight back at him from below and he gives the younger teen a tremulous, adoring little smile. Slowly, carefully, he leans in, doing his best not to jostle Sakuya, nuzzling his nose against his younger brother’s before touching his forehead to his and exhaling quietly.

_"D’accord?”_ Yuuya asks quietly, brushing Sakuya’s damp bangs away from where they stick to the bridge of his nose and face, dropping a kiss to his forehead as an afterthought.

Sakuya’s gaze flits away as he gives a jerking, utterly unconvincing nod but Yuuya lets his brother’s pride slide for the moment, letting Sakuya adjust in his own time.

Yuuya is all too happy to take the time to commit Sakuya utterly debouched like this to memory—

From the way his skin is sweetly flushed, a lovely compliment to the pretty pink of the satiny dress billowed out around him, to the way sweat trickles down from his temple, making his hair curl even more. Seeing his usually immaculate hair tangled, damp, and unmistakably fucked into a mess makes Yuuya’s already searing blood run even hotter – especially with that cute headband nudged askew to top it off. Even just the way Sakuya’s slender legs tremble around his waist as he strains to keep his ankles tightly hooked around him is an incredible turn-on.

Yuuya blinks himself back to reality at this last observation, his hands moving almost of their own accord to slide down under Sakuya’s thighs to steady them. He smiles helplessly to himself at the way Sakuya’s breath stutters out in a shaky sigh of relief.

_"Ça va,”_ Sakuya says weakly after a few more slow, strained breaths, but Yuuya waits until he meets his gaze for reassurance, biting back an earnest smile when Sakuya wrinkles his nose at him and gives a little rock of his hips in invitation. He gives a smug, breathless smile despite himself when the simple action knocks the smile straight off Yuuya’s face and leaves him gasping.

So Yuuya responds the only way he can think to in reply, and does just what Sakuya wants – responds with actions, not words. 

He carefully pulls back, until just the head of his cock is still inside his brother before he slides smoothly back in, dragging twin groans from the both of them.

_"Fuck,”_ Yuuya swears fiercely, and Sakuya jerkily nods his agreement. Dazed, he licks his lips before tentatively lifting his hips to meet Yuuya’s next thrust. He shudders and makes a desperate, keening noise that goes straight to Yuuya’s cock, who groans low in his throat as his cock give a pulse of arousal. 

Sakuya gasps at the feeling of his brother twitching deep inside him and he twists his head to hide his blushing face in the comforter in a strange mix of delighted embarrassment.

Yuuya gives a harder, more deliberate rock of his hips to gauge Sakuya’s reaction, and then another, deeper one when he feels Sakuya’s toes curl against his back. And then they’re finally, _finally_ moving together—in a slow, languid rhythm at first, but it quickly falls apart into something frantic and desperate in a matter of minutes.

Sakuya’s blunt nails scrabble harmlessly down Yuuya’s sweat-slick back as he tries to tug him down closer. Yuuya ducks down obligingly and lets Sakuya curl his fingers into his already messy hair to pull him down into a wet, open-mouthed, absolutely _filthy_ kiss that makes Yuuya’s head spin and knocks what little air he has left straight out of his lungs.

“ _O-oh_ —ng _ **god** ,_” Sakuya chokes out when Yuuya hikes his legs higher for better leverage and thrusts in deeper, hands fisting into the longer strands at Yuuya’s nape as his spine arches straight off the bed when Yuuya’s cock grazes his prostate.

So while Sakuya is still reeling from that first brief, simple spark of pleasure, Yuuya takes the opportunity to muster the willpower to pull out, quickly lift Sakuya’s leg to hook over his shoulder, grope blindly for a pillow to shove under the small of Sakuya’s back; and then slams right back into his sweet spot. 

Sakuya sees stars and screams so loudly it startles a shocked, breathless laugh of " _Sakuya, **shh!"**_ from his brother, who has to lurch forward to slap a hand over his lips, staring down at him with wide, blown eyes, his whole face clouded with lust.

Sakuya pants harshly through his nose, eyes squeezed tightly shut in mortification, until Yuuya coaxes them back open with whispers of reassurance and soft words of praise and adoration as he mouths along the line of his jaw, teeth catching along the delicate shell of his ear.

_"Je t’aime, Sakuya, je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime,”_ Yuuya pants into the curve of his neck as he slows down, pulling nearly all the way out before pushing back into the younger boy at a maddeningly slow pace—making Sakuya acutely aware of every last inch of Yuuya’s thick cock as he slides back home, angling just short of his prostate, barely so much as grazing it each time before he pulls back out. 

Yuuya is an expert lover, and knows _just_ how to press his precious little brother’s buttons until he breaks down and begs for it – and they both know it. 

So Sakuya is fully aware that that’s _precisely_ what Yuuya is working ever so patiently towards.

With each and every carefully placed kiss to his neck and throat, to the throaty sighs of his name against his ear—small, little touches that make him sigh in pleasure—

Sakuya’s breath catches when Yuuya’s hands settle possessively on his hips, fingertips pressing down just this side of painful—and Sakuya shudders at the thought of having at least another week to place his own fingertips over them as he jerks himself off to the memory of this evening.

It takes every last remnant of self-restraint Sakuya has left not to just break down and cry, beg, _plead_ for it—to just give Yuuya whatever he wants if it means his big brother will just _fuck him til he cums already._

He is a _Le Bel._ He _will not_ be so easily reduced to begging.

But then Yuuya unexpectedly snaps his hips forward and grinds right into his sweet spot, and any remaining semblance of dignity flies out the window as Sakuya bites down hard into the fleshy pad of Yuuya’s palm, shouting French obscenities against his hand as he slams his hips back down as hard as he can.

Of course, watching Sakuya finally lose himself completely is all it takes to push Yuuya past the point of no return, and any remaining semblance of composure cracks as his face crumples with need. He thrusts two fingers into Sakuya’s mouth to muffle his brother’s cries as he starts fucking Sakuya in earnest, expertly snapping his hips forward to hit Sakuya’s prostate with every thrust.

Sakuya’s stifled cries around his fingers grow higher and sharper with each rock of their hips, and he bites down on Yuuya’s fingers each time he pushes in.

But Yuuya doesn’t mind—panting hard as he fucks in and out of Sakuya’s tight hole until Sakuya’s clenching down so hard he can barely move. He swears and settles for dropping one arm above Sakuya's head to lean on for leverage, while he frees his other from Sakuya’s mouth to reach down and pump his younger brother in time with his slick fingers, grinding his hips in small, sloppy circles as deep as he can into his brother.

_"Yuuya,"_ Sakuya sobs helplessly, _"Yuuya, **please** ,_ I _can’t,_ I’m gonna--” and then his voice dies suddenly as he comes, his spine arching up and off the bed as cum spatters over Yuuya’s chest and as far as his neck—his wordless cry of pleasure breaking into a sharp wail as Yuuya continues pounding into him.

“Oh _fuck,_ Sakuya, _**fuck** ,_" Yuuya chokes out as Sakuya clenches down around him, overwhelmed and overstimulated. He tries to fuck him all the way through his orgasm, he really does, but Sakuya’s so tight and he feels so fucking good that his own, equally sudden climax has him sinking his teeth into Sakuya’s shoulder to stifle a shout as he cums hard deep inside Sakuya, dragging a low, stuttering moan from the smaller boy. They rock together frantically a few more times, struggling to draw out their respective orgasms as long as they can before Yuuya’s arms give out and they crumple into a sweaty heap on the now impossibly messy bed.

Sakuya makes a sound of protest after a minute of them simply lying there catching their breath, and pushes weakly at Yuuya's shoulders. 

“Get off,” Sakuya grumbles, and Yuuya snorts, spitting his brother’s hair out of his mouth.

“I just did,” Yuuya deadpans into the comforter. "You know you’ll have to give me at _least_ thirty minutes before I can try to give it another go.” 

He doesn’t even flinch when Sakuya swats him lightly upside the head at his sass, content to smile stupidly into the bedsheets where Sakuya can’t see it. The young heir gives a dramatic huff and pretends to make an ordeal of getting comfortable despite his brother’s insistence on remaining flopped on top of him.

He doesn’t bother with his half hearted pretense of squirming uncomfortably for longer than a minute further, though, and eventually slides a leg between Yuuya’ to tangle with the older boy’s longer legs, letting out a satisfied sound when Yuuya hooks an ankle accommodatingly around his. He turns his head to press an unusually tender, lingering kiss just behind Yuuya’s ear.

_“... j’ t’aime aussi,”_ he eventually mumbles shyly. He swallows thickly when Yuuya briefly freezes before slowly turning his head to meet his brother’s gaze, blue eyes bright and warm and delighted behind his tangled bangs. Sakuya’s so flustered by the look of joy on his face, he doesn’t even make a snarky remark about the way his barrettes stick out ridiculously from where they’re hopelessly tangled in his hair.

“Then I can die happy,” Yuuya murmurs back honestly. Sakuya doesn’t quite know why but his stomach flip-flops at how oddly serious his usually playful brother sounds.

“No, you absolutely can _not."_ Words are suddenly tumbling out of Sakuya’s mouth before he realizes the gravity of what he’s saying. 

“I forbid it. I-I won’t stand for that sort of talk, Yuuya, because I demand you to stay alive, and. And stay. Just. Stay. With me. Be honored,” he tacks on lamely at the end, because he suddenly isn’t sure that had been in line to say—Yuuya’s eyes are wide as saucers, and—

Oh, for the love of God--are those _tears?_ Sakuya wonders, alarmed.

He doesn't get the chance to take a good look, because then Yuuya is crushing Sakuya’s face against his chest as he pulls him into what may very well be the tightest hug of his life.

“I won't go anywhere ever again, Sakuya. I swear—nothing, and no one can ever take you away from me again,” Yuuya whispers fiercely into his hair. 

Sakuya's heart gives a sharp _pang_ as he suddenly realizes what Yuuya's talking about. Slowly, he raises his arms up to wrap around Yuuya’s middle in return, squeezing awkwardly back.

“You'd best keep that promise,” Sakuya says at last, and _no,_ his voice isn't the least bit thick. "Promises to the Le Bel family aren’t taken lightly.”

He swears he feels Yuuya’s heart skip a beat where it rests beneath his cheek, and he wants to lift his head and ask what's wrong--but that's right when Yuuya opens his mouth and makes as if he’s about to speak.

There’s a lull when neither brother says anything, and the silence hangs between them until Yuuya takes a slow, long breath and cradles Sakuya tighter, hiding an odd, wistful smile against his brother’s hair as he murmurs, "well, thank goodness they're held in equal regard amongst Sakazakis.”

 

_end_

**Author's Note:**

> pfffft c'mon you know I can't resist a good bonus 
> 
> Thanks for reading my fantailcest sin. Let me know if you liked it and I'll consider posting the rest <33  
> Hope you enjoyed! _Coo coo!_


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